


Serenitea: A Firefly Coffeeshop AU

by penthisilia_penicillin



Category: Firefly
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Flashbacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-16 08:18:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5821021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penthisilia_penicillin/pseuds/penthisilia_penicillin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stroke of luck gets Simon Tam a job at Firefly Coffee and Tea.  Between prickly boss Mal, cute coworker Kaylee, and  his sister River's tendency towards chaos, his life is taking a turn for the interesting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Here’s how it is: a few years ago, I quit my job as a desk jockey to open a coffeehouse as part of a downtown revitalization project. There were lots of new businesses—some rich and flush, some not so much. Then the big corporations came to town—worst of which, Alliance Coffee, opened just down the street from my shop. A few idiots have kept fighting for the small businesses, among them myself. I’m Malcolm Reynolds, owner of Firefly Coffee and Tea. We’ve got a good crew: Kaylee and Zoe working the counter, Wash handling the books, Jayne doing maintenance. We’ve even got a singer here some nights, name of Inara Serra. You want to find serenity? Step through my door. We’ve got what you need.

~ ~ ~

“River?”

“Two by two…two by two…”

Simon’s voice barely manages to penetrate the awful wall of sounds and images she’s being assaulted with. She curls in on herself, heart beating fast, as the world spins, as the two men approach her, again and again and…

“River!” 

Her head snaps up. “Simon?”

He’s holding her, crouched next to her on the pavement, ignoring or oblivious to the dirty looks from passersby. “You’re ok. You’re safe, River. I’m here.”  
She’s still shaking, fragile in his arms like a tiny bird. He can feel her bony arms through the oversized sweater she wears as he helps her stand up. “Let’s get you inside. Get you some water, ok?”

River nods. She presses herself against her brother as they walk, skittish of everyone who walks past; more so if they meet her eyes. Finally, after what seems like forever in the too-loud-too-bright-too-peopled world outside, he opens a door and ushers her inside.

Coffee. Deep, rich, bitter coffee fills her nose. “SIMON!”

“No, no, River, you’re ok, it’s ok, let’s just sit down…”

She writhes and thrashes in his grasp, shrieking “No!”, struggling to break free of his grasp. With a final wrench, she rips away and runs…  
…and collides with a tall, muscular man wearing an orange apron. Orange. She relaxes enough to look up at him.

“What the hell is going on here?”

Simon appears beside her. “I’m so sorry sir, my sister isn’t feeling well and we were hoping to sit down and rest for a few minutes.”

The tall man shook his head. “She doesn’t look too restful to me.”

“I know, but if we could just stay here a few minutes, I can calm her down, and…”

“She’s scaring my customers. My paying customers,” he adds with a significant look.

“Of course, I understand…”

“Hey, are you two okay?” A short, concerned-looking Asian girl in another orange apron had come up behind the man, holding two cups of water. “I thought y’all might want some water. On the house.”

The man ran a hand through his hair. “Kaylee,” he began.

She rolled her eyes. “Come on Mal, it’s just water. You can…take it out of my paycheck. I’ll pay it in installments.”

He sighed. “Just see to it that these two don’t cause any more trouble.” He strode back to the counter, where a gaggle of teenage girls were waiting for their nonfat soy caramel macchiatos.

Simon stared after him. “Who is that?”

Kaylee glanced over her shoulder. “Oh, that’s just Mal. Mr. Reynolds, I guess, if you don’t know him. He owns the shop. And who are you two?”

Simon seemed startled by the question. “Uh, nobody important. My name’s Simon. This is my sister, River.”

Kaylee shook hands with Simon and gave River a sunny smile. “You feelin’ any better, River?”

River stared. It wasn’t a particularly menacing stare, or a vacant one, or one filled with disdain. It simply conveyed very clearly that its owner would not be contributing to the conversation.

“Is she gonna be ok?” Kaylee asked Simon. 

He nodded. “She’ll be fine. She gets like this sometimes.” Eager to fill the silence, he added, “How long have you worked here?”

“Oh, a couple years. I like it. Everyone’s so nice, except for Jayne, and even he’s a softy once you get past the grossness. What do you do?”

Simon cleared his throat. Cute women always left him dry-mouthed. “Well, I…used to be a doctor.”

“Used to be?” Kaylee sounded amused. “What are you now?”

“A baker. Or, I would be, if I were employed. I can bake. Professionally. River, do you want anything to eat?” That sounded so wishy-washy compared to a doctor. 

She gave him that stare, as Kaylee offered “We don’t have much. Yogurt, granola bars, that kinda thing.”

“No cookies or muffins?”

Kaylee shook her head. “Nope. We can’t find a bakery that’ll supply us cheap. We could get stuff frozen, but Mal’s against it and I agree. It all tastes like chemicals. 

“Can I talk to him for a minute?” Wheels had started to turn in Simon’s head. Rent was due, and they had burned through most of their savings—the little they had, anyway. His sporadic hours at the bookstore weren’t cutting it anymore. It was a long shot, but maybe…

Kaylee shrugged. “I guess I can take over the counter. But if you’re thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, he’s not gonna be easy to convince. You’re not his favorite people right now.”

Simon smiled. “Don’t worry. I think we will be in a minute.”

~ ~ ~

Ultimately, Simon reflected, his assumption may have been a little over-optimistic.

“Absolutely not.” Mal leaned back in the creaky old chair behind his desk and linked his fingers behind his head.

“But Mr. Reynolds, think of the extra business it would bring in. People would see Firefly as a place to get breakfast, use as an office of sorts…”

Mal stood up abruptly, making River jump a little. “I wasn’t keen on the idea in general, and I’m really not keen on you two gettin’ mixed up in it. You’ve caused enough trouble in my shop today already, and I want you gone. Least till that sister of yours can keep her head on straight.” He rubbed his mouth with his hand, then sat down again, as though he had used all the energy he had allotted for this conversation in that outburst.

Simon began again, “And if we use local, organic ingredients, we’d have the advantage of…”

“Enough.” Mal just sounded tired now. “You can see yourselves out.”

Simon gathered River and, disappointed, walked out of the office, shutting the door behind him with a struggle and a sudden thump. Mal made a mental note to have Jayne look at the doorframe so the blasted thing would stop sticking.

With a sigh, he opened CNN’s website on his ancient laptop and scrolled through the news. The first business headline read “Alliance Coffee Opening First International Cafe”. With a growl, he turned the monitor off and went back out to the counter.

Kaylee greeted him with a worried look as she cleaned the espresso press. It was early afternoon--too soon after lunch for people to need a pick-me-up—and the shop was deserted. “If you keep that look on your face you’ll scare all the customers away. What’s wrong?”

Mal shook his head as he started washing mugs, but set his work aside with a clatter a moment later. “Those gorram Alliance bastards are everywhere. Now they’re in Canada. Pretty soon, every mother-lovin’ street corner and airport in the world will have one. And…”

“And their beans are burnt and their tea is weak and their service is awful and people are brainwashed to not know any better,” Kaylee finished with an eye-roll. “I know, Mal. They suck.”

“They suck the life out of small businesses who are clearly superior, and why? Because they have a flashy jingle and a stupid mascot and…”

“Mal. Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down, Kaylee! Sales dropped another five percent this past month! And they’re opening stores in Canada!”

“We’ll be ok! We’ve been doing fine this past year.” Tears were beginning to shine in the corners of Kaylee’s eyes. 

Mal winced, mentally kicking himself for losing his temper. Kaylee had plenty of fire of her own, but she hated being yelled at. With a sigh, Mal said, “I’m sorry, lil’ Kaylee. I didn’t mean to yell.”

She smiled a tight smile and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Wash should be here soon. You two can figure something out.”

“Send him back to my office when he gets here, would you?”

She nodded, then turned her attention back to the espresso machine. 

~ ~ ~

Before Wash could open the door, Kaylee barreled out of it, nearly knocking him over. “Wash, I need your help. Mal’s freaking out about money and Alliance, and I have a plan. But I need numbers.”

Wash ran a hand through his spiky blonde hair. “Ok. I can give you numbers. Forty-two. One thousand. Nine.”

Kaylee rolled her eyes, though the smile creeping across her face lessened the effect. “Wash…”

Hoban Washburne, affectionately known to the Firefly staff as Wash, put an arm around her shoulders. “Come on. I can give you more accurate ones inside.”

“No, Mal can’t know about this! He’s…kind of angry about it.”

“Ok, Kaylee, I am happy to help you and all, but what are you talking about?” 

Kaylee explained the events of that afternoon, leaving out only how cute the doctor-turned-baker was and the more extreme oddities of his sister. 

“So,” she finished breathlessly, “What do you think? Can we do it?”

Wash shrugged, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. Today it was a particularly hideous orange, yellow, and blue Hawaiian print, featuring dogs on surfboards. “I don’t know, not right now. It’s all gonna come down to the bottom line. How much his ingredients would cost versus how much we can sell the finished product for, minus the extra cost of his hourly wage, factoring in Mal’s stress levels…”

“But it’s possible? And we should at least talk to him about it so we can get those details?” The hope radiating off of Kaylee was nearly palpable.

“I guess…Kaylee, do you have any sort of contact info for this guy? I mean, what do you really know about him? I’m all for crazy schemes, but…”

“Not much. But we do have the Internet! And Mal’s leaving at 5 today, so we can stalk Simon after he leaves.”

Wash sighed. “Fine. It won’t hurt to look into. Can I go inside now? I want to start earning my paycheck.”

“By playing with the plastic dinosaurs you have on your desk?”

Wash returned Kaylee’s innocent smile with the look of someone trying their hardest to look innocent and missing it by a wide margin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he declared, opening the door to the shop.

Kaylee followed him in, close on his heels. “How’s the romance between the stegosaurus and the brontosaurus coming along? Are they working through their mutual differences?”

“You know,” Wash said, pivoting to face her, “some chicks dig creative guys.”

“Not ones who dress like they live in their mother’s basement,” Kaylee said with a wicked smirk and a hand on her hip, nodding at Wash’s aforementioned Hawaiian shirt, flung over a Star Wars T-shirt and khaki cargo pants. 

He leaned a hand against the doorframe of Mal's office. “Have…you mentioned any of this to Zoe, by any chance?”

Kaylee shook her head, her sun-streaked brown curls bouncing as she did so. “I didn’t tell her about it.”

“Good, because…”

“She’s the one who told me!”

Wash’s eyes widened. “Kaylee, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said with a wink. Hearing the bell on the front door jingle, she turned around and sashayed back to the counter.

~ ~ ~

“Well, I’ll say this for the guy—I can really respect anyone who keeps their personal life off the Internet.” Two hours of searching for Simon had come to naught, despite all of Wash’s tricks with search engines and protocols and Kaylee’s knowledge of obscure social media platforms.

“He has to exist somewhere! I mean, if he was in medical school, there should be records. Right?”

“If he was still in med school, maybe. But since he dropped out…” Wash leaned back from the computer and stretched his arms towards the ceiling. “I dunno, Kaylee. I think he may remain shrouded in mystery forever.”

The bell on the front door jingled, causing both of them to look up guiltily from the laptop they had set up on the bar top that ran parallel to the counter. Simon stood in the doorway, looking awkward and slightly wary, as though he might be attacked by a wild Mal at any moment. 

“See, Wash? I told you he exists!” Kaylee said triumphantly. “Hey Simon! We were just talking about you.”

He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh-oh. That’s never a good sign.”

“Hey, at least we admitted to it.” Wash swung off of his stool with a hand outstretched. “I’m Wash. I crunch numbers. Sometimes I even gnaw them.”

Simon shook his hand in return. “Nice to meet you. Um, I don’t mean to interrupt anything, but I wanted to pay for the waters we, uh, River and I, drank earlier. I don’t want to cause any more trouble with your boss.”

Kaylee brushed off his concern with a lazy hand gesture. “I told you, it was on the house. No worries.”

Simon swallowed. This was not how he had expected this interaction to go. “Oh. Well, thank you. I’m sorry to bother you again.” He turned to leave, cursing himself for his complete inability to flirt with attractive women.

“Hey, you don’t have to run off. We actually wanted to talk to you about something,” Kaylee called. “I think we can convince Mal to hire you.”

Simon paused, but didn’t turn around. “Really?” He didn’t dare let his hopes run away with him.

“Maybe,” Wash cautioned, back at his computer. “We need to run some numbers first to find out if it’s even feasible to pay you for your product. If it is, we’ll give you another shot at it when Mal’s in a better mood. You feel like talking business?”

If he wasn’t trying to appear cool, he would have run over to Wash and hugged him. “Absolutely,” he said, finally turning to face his potential future coworkers. “Just tell me what you need.”

As the two calculated, speculated, and data-tabled, Simon divided his time between watching Kaylee (as non-creepily as possible) and letting his gaze wander around the coffeeshop. It was small, but well laid out. The counter ran halfway along one wall, and the bar top ran along it the rest of the way; the only break in it was the hallway leading to the restroom and offices. The walls were a warm light brown color that was too dark and pleasant to be tan, with brightly-colored abstract paintings scattered around to prevent monotony. The only matching pieces of furniture were the bar stools—everything else seemed to have come from garage sales or someone’s home. Despite the eclectic décor, the space was clean, well-lit, and inviting. The chalkboard menu behind the counter was a bit cliché, but it fit.

And Kaylee. She moved around the coffeeshop as though the space was tailored to her. She never stood still, but not a single move was wasted. She didn’t move like a dancer; she had the grace and confidence, but there was too much practicality and solidness to her steps and turns for it to be a dance. 

She smiled at every customer, even the ones who didn’t smile back. And she never let that smile slip, even for a second, until they had taken their unsmiling faces out the door. Every so often, she would glance over at Simon and Wash and grin, and when that happened Simon felt a blush that he was sure she could see…as could people in outer space. He couldn’t smile back, though. God, no. She was way out of his league. 

Wash rolled his neck, tapped a few keys, and clapped Simon on the shoulder. “As long as we can stay on track with these projected costs, we should be ok. I overestimated the costs a bit and under-projected the sales, too, so we should have a pretty decent margin. It won’t be a huge production run at first, but it’s a foot in the door.”

Simon reluctantly jerked his thoughts back to the spreadsheets. “So…I have a job?”

Wash shook his head with a rueful smile. “If it were up to me, you would. Unfortunately, Mal’s the one you need to convince.”

“We’ll convince him,” Kaylee called from the counter. “Simon, how soon can you have some samples ready? Like menus and baked stuff?”

Simon bit his lip. “I could probably be ready in two days? I don’t think Mr. Reynolds is going to want to see my face again, Kaylee. He nearly tore it off the last time I talked to him.”

Her face broke out into another one of those sunny smiles that made his heart skip a beat. “Then we won’t tell him! As far as Mal knows, Wash has been researching this for months and you’re the best candidate we’ve found. Wash, email everyone and set up a staff meeting for Thursday after close, OK?”

~ ~ ~

Mal stalked into the shop at 9:15 on Thursday evening, just as the last of the regulars were packing up their laptops. He waved at Zoe, who was counting out the register, and headed back to the second office. The staff used this space like a break room, even though there was barely room for a table, 4 chairs, and a mini-fridge. Wash and Jayne were already seated when he entered. Mal nodded at them and slouched into the third chair. Scarcely a minute passed before Zoe and Kaylee joined them, giggling about something.

“Ok,” Wash began abruptly, hopping up from his chair. “Let’s get started. Mal, I’ve been thinking about our concerns these past few weeks, and I think our best solution will be to start offering baked goods.” Mal’s face darkened; Wash smiled nervously and pressed on. “I’ve been doing some research, interviewing candidates, yadda yadda yadda, and I think I’ve found a good match. Kaylee, could you grab the samples from the kitchen?”

Kaylee scampered out and reappeared a moment later with two trays: one piled with muffins, the other stacked with frosted cookies. She passed them around as Wash continued his spiel.

“The muffins are banana-peanut butter-carob-oat: vegan, and gluten-free, but still delicious. The cookies are vanilla with a holiday spice glaze—nothing fancy, but satisfying and seasonal, since a certain someone has a vendetta against pumpkin spice in coffee.” He directed a pointed glance at Mal before continuing. “Please, enjoy, and let me know what you think.”

The crew dove into the platters of treats. Only Jayne complained about the vegan muffins, and Mal gave an approving nod to the cookies. Once they had finished nibbling, Wash took them through the financial side, much to Mal’s approval. Once the presentation had finished, he nodded once, then said, “Ok, Kaylee. He can come out now.”

She blinked, trying to disguise her deer-in-the-headlights expression as innocence. “Who?”

“From the other day, what’s his name. With the sister. I know this is his work. Bring him out here.”

Reluctantly, Kaylee went to the kitchen and brought Simon into the second office. He had the distinct impression that he was on trial as he entered the crowded room.

Mal gazed at him for a moment. “You understand, your sister can’t show hide nor hair round this place if she’s gonna disturb things.”

Simon nodded nervously. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll give you a month as a test run. If you can live up to Wash’s numbers here, and your cookies are all this good…” he gestured to the now empty platters on the table, “…then I think we might be able to work something out.” 

Simon stared at him, expecting a smile, a handshake, something, anything. Eventually, he said “Thank you, sir. I can start tomorrow, whenever you want me to be here.”

Mal nodded. “5:30’s when we open our doors. Have your stuff here by then.” 

Simon gulped, then nodded. “Will do.” He had a very long night ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here’s how it is: a few years ago, I quit my job as a desk jockey to open a coffeehouse as part of a downtown revitalization project. There were lots of new businesses—some rich and flush, some not so much. Then the big corporations came to town—worst of which, Alliance Coffee, opened just down the street from my shop. A few idiots have kept fighting for the small businesses, among them myself. I’m Malcolm Reynolds, owner of Firefly Coffee and Tea. We’ve got a good crew: Kaylee and Zoe working the counter, Wash handling the books, Jayne doing maintenance. We’ve even got a singer here some nights, name of Inara Serra. You want to find serenity? Step through my door. We’ve got what you need.

Chapter 2  
It was a perfect fall day—the kind poets write odes to that mention crisp air, endless blue sky, and leaves in every shade and hue imaginable. This sort of weather put everyone at the shop in a good mood: Zoe was smiling at every customer, Wash had done his Elvis impression when he came in at 9, and even Mal radiated less surliness than usual.  
The only person not feeling the season’s charms was Simon, who had been staked out at a corner table since the shop had opened. He chewed on a ragged pencil, watching the counter like a hawk. Every time a customer purchased a baked good, he put a tally mark on the paper in front of him—which was carefully separated into columns for each item he had made.   
He had baked 3 items for his first day, figuring a few quality recipes would impress Mal more than a bunch of half-assed ones. After much deliberation, he had settled on a chocolate-chip biscotti, flavored with plenty of vanilla and a warming kiss of chai spice, and fresh, bright, orange-zucchini muffins. The third recipe was savory, a tender-crumbly scone studded with bacon, cheddar cheese, and fresh chives. He had mixed a hint of garlic into the batter before baking, and had sprinkled parmesan cheese on top.  
So far, the scones had been selling the best, with the biscotti a close second. The muffins weren’t doing as well. Simon rubbed his forehead, cursing his choice of zucchini—it was definitely a niche ingredient in the baked-good world.   
A middle-aged woman, hauling two whining children behind her, shattered the mid-morning quiet of the shop. “Cappuccino,” she snapped in Zoe’s direction. Zoe didn’t move. She returned the woman’s angry stare with a blank expression. Zoe was tall, and well-muscled. She wore a black shirt that read “Don’t tell me to smile” in pink block letters. Her long curly hair was piled into a messy bun at the top of her head. Rumor was she taught classes at a local shooting range in her spare time.  
Zoe was more than a match for any customer, rude or otherwise, that set foot in the shop. But this one was either braver than she looked, or completely unaware of the danger she was in.  
“Well?” she snapped. “Are you deaf? I need a cappuccino!”   
Zoe smiled. “Certainly,” she said. She began to gather the ingredients slowly, one by one. The woman was visibly fuming. If this had been a cartoon, smoke would have been pouring out of her ears.   
“Hurry up, I haven’t got all day!”  
Zoe gave her a serene smile. “Of course. While you’re waiting, may I suggest you look at our new offerings?” She gestured towards Simon’s display as she dribbled milk into the steamer.  
The woman glanced at the case, and her features became even more sour. “There’s nothing for the kids in here. You think my kids want to eat zucchini?” She broadly waved her hand at the display case. “This is crap.”  
Two agonizing and abuse-filled minutes later, Zoe handed the woman her coffee. She threw her money down on the counter and stormed to the door. As she opened it, she haughtily proclaimed, “I will be taking my business elsewhere from now on!”  
Zoe waited until the door closed behind her before calling, “Good riddance, bitch!” The few customers in the shop laughed.  
Simon did not share their laughter. The lady was right—his stuff was crap! It was too fancy—that’s why it wasn’t selling well!   
Zoe, noticing his distress, came over to his table and patted him on the shoulder. Simon smiled at her gratefully, thankful for some sympathy and comfort.   
“You know, you should probably also be tracking the times that everything is selling.”  
Simon’s smile instantly became a look closely resembling the one an animal gets right before a car turns it into roadkill. Zoe smirked and clapped him on the shoulder one more time before heading back to the counter.  
~ ~ ~  
Mal stepped out of his office at around 11, to stretch his legs and grab a mug of tea. He made a mental note of the customers in the shop, as well as Simon, taking up a whole table and looking somewhere between panicked and constipated. He rolled his eyes and stepped behind the counter.   
“How’s business today, Zoe?”  
“Nothing out of the ordinary, sir.” She smiled.  
Mal glanced at her sideways, but decided not to push the matter further. “You want to take your break now, or when Kaylee gets in?”   
“I can wait, sir. I’ll take it when she gets here.”  
Mal nodded absentmindedly and began steeping a mug of orange spice rooibos, this week’s featured tea. After exactly 6 and a half minutes, he took a sip and gave a contented sigh.   
On his way back to his office, he glanced again at Simon. After a brief internal debate, he walked over to the table and sat down.  
Simon jumped. “Ma-, uh, Mr. Reynolds! Hi! How are you?”  
“Doin’ all right. How are the numbers looking?”  
Simon hastily shuffled papers. “Good, they look good. Everything is…good…” He trailed off under Mal’s piercing gaze.   
“Let me see them.” Reluctantly, Simon handed over his tally. Mal looked over them for a moment, then glanced over the top of the paper at Simon. “These are nothing to be ashamed of. They’re not great, but we’ll see how the rest of the week goes.” He handed the papers back to Simon and took another sip of tea.  
It was only a few moments before he spoke again, but to Simon it seemed like an eternity. “You know why this shop is so important to me?”  
Simon shook his head.   
“Round the corner, there’s a shop called Alliance Coffee. Big chain. You heard of’em?”  
Simon nodded. “River and her friends used to go there all the time. They had this one drink called a matcha frappe—she could drink that stuff by the gallon! I never understood why she liked it so much. Their coffee tastes harsh, and they fill the cups with so much ice your drink is half water.” Simon checked himself suddenly, startled that he had rambled to his boss, worried there would be some sort of backlash—but to his relief, Mal had a small smile on his face.  
“I’ve never gotten into coffee myself—my grammy taught me everything I know about tea, and it’s always kept me satisfied. But Alliance’s teas are mediocre. You could buy them at Walmart, and make ’em just the same way they do. They don’t care about quality, they just care about money.”  
Mal sighed, then leaned back in his chair. He gazed at the ceiling. “Seems to me that’s what’s wrong with the world these days. People don’t care about making something right. Don’t think it’s worth their time, I guess, when something half-assed’ll make them rich.”  
Simon nodded, but he wasn’t sure Mal had seen. The man seemed lost in thought, his gaze on the ceiling. He looked so calm, nearly meditative…  
Mal banged the front legs of his chair down as he sat forward, making Simon jump. “And don’t even get me started on their stupid logo. What the good gorram does a unicorn have to do with coffee? And what sort of deformed unicorn has 2 horns?”  
Simon, frozen in his seat, just shrugged.  
Mal sat back, calmer. “Anyhow. Tea is what I love. I’m doing something good for the world sharing what I love. Those Alliance bastards don’t care about that. And they’re gonna drive me out of business with that screwed-up way of thinkin’.” He looked at Simon sharply. “And if you’re the reason that happens, I’m gonna take it as a personal insult. You only in it for the money, you walk out that door and don’t come back.”  
Gulping, Simon shook his head. “I, uh, I.” He swallowed. “Look, I may not care about tea the same way you do, but I care about my food. I take pride in what I make and sharing it with others.” He braced himself for what he was about to say next, knowing it may cost him his job. “But I’m also in it for the money. I have to take care of River. My parents would if she’d let them, but she won’t go back to them. So it’s all on me. I used to get part-time hours at Barnes and Noble, but they kept decreasing and it wasn’t worth it anymore. And then we lived off my savings for a couple weeks, but those got eaten through fast, and if it wasn’t for you offering me a job, we’d probably…” Simon glanced up at Mal, who was regarding him with a strange look on his face.   
“I understand doin’ something for survival,” Mal said slowly. “Sometimes, that can motivate you more than love. But I see you love what you do, and you love your sister. And if those are your reasons, and your numbers pick up a little, I’ll keep you on long as I can.”  
“Th-thank you. Thank you, Mr. Reynolds. I won’t let you down.” Simon blinked away tears of relief.  
Mal offered him a rare smile. “Call me Mal.”  
~ ~ ~  
¬ Kaylee sailed in the door at noon, humming something upbeat—clearly, she too was not impervious to the weather’s charms. She waved at Simon, then disappeared down the hallway to put on an apron.   
Simon barely noticed. He was huddled over his papers, as he had been all morning. He was still tallying obsessively, but now he was also brainstorming menus for the rest of the week. He could keep the scones for another day, but the muffins needed to be switched out. The biscotti could be replaced with a cookie or some pound cake, something that would keep all day and have snack appeal. And he’d always wanted to try making croissants—maybe for the weekend?  
By this point, Kaylee had taken over the counter and Zoe had disappeared for her break. She watched the baker as he slouched over his papers, running a hand through his hair every so often. He really was cute, with light brown eyes that could sparkle if he took a break from frowning once in a while. She let her gaze drift over his shirt, a rumpled white button-down, and to his hands, nervously fiddling with his pen. And he wasn’t just good looking. The man could bake. And the way he cared about his sister…Kaylee smiled to herself as she pulled a shot of espresso, daydreaming about how good Simon must be with kids. Her imagination drifted to Simon as a kid, trying to picture him with chubby cheeks.  
The bell over the door jingled, and Kaylee glanced up. “River! Hi!”  
Simon’s head jerked up so quickly he felt slightly dizzy. “River? What are you doing here? Is school out already?”  
River nodded, drifting slowly towards Simon’s table.   
“Can I get ya something, River? We’ve got a lemon-berry-something-or-other tea that’s real nice.”  
River shook her head, holding Kaylee’s gaze just a second past polite—it went firmly into “unsettling” territory.  
Kaylee either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. She simply gave River a sweet smile and continued wiping down the counter.  
Simon cleared a space on the table as River sat down. “How was school today, River?” he asked absentmindedly. Two men had come in, and Simon couldn’t see if they had ordered scones or muffins.  
River shrugged, then pulled his data sheet away from him and glanced at it. “If you took all the blood vessels out of an average child and laid them end to end, they would circle the Earth 2.41 times. At the equator.”  
They’d ordered muffins! Simon triumphantly reached for his tally sheet, a bewildered look clouding his face when he realized it wasn’t in front of him. River handed it back to him. “Thank you, River.” He made the tally marks in the appropriate columns. “2.5 times, huh. How about an adult?”  
River shook her head. “2.41. And an average adult male’s blood vessels would stretch 100,000 miles. 4.02 times around the Earth. There’s so much of us. But we’re so small…” She trailed off, getting that distant look in her eye. Simon watched her carefully—quite often, when she drifted off like this, she would come back to Earth screaming.  
But this time was not one of those times. She blinked once, then wandered over to the window to watch the street.   
Simon breathed a sigh of relief, and was so focused on River that he nearly gave a scream when Kaylee slid into the recently vacated seat. “Is she okay? She looked a little spacey just then.”  
Simon gave a tight smile masquerading as a grimace. “Yes, she’s okay right now.”   
“Right now?” Kaylee said, concern lacing her soft voice.   
Hesitating for just a moment, Simon continued, “She gets like that sometimes. I…something happened, a couple months ago. Out of the blue she just showed up on my doorstep, shaking, not saying a word. It took me hours to get her calmed down, and she wouldn’t say anything. It was 2, maybe 3 weeks before she talked again.” Simon sighed in frustration, not at River, but at his own helplessness to mitigate her problems. “She started having nightmares, screaming at the top of her lungs, and it was like she started having nightmares while she was awake too—she’ll just drift off like that, and snap out of it screaming. She barely says a word, and I don’t know what’s wrong…”he trailed off, unsure what else he could say.  
Resting a hand on his shoulder, Kaylee asked, “Do you think it would help if I took her on a walk? Maybe the fresh air would do her good.”  
“I can hear everything you’re saying.” River had turned away from the window to face Simon and Kaylee.  
Kaylee immediately turned her focus to River. “You wanna take a walk? Zoe can watch the counter while I’m on break. Come on, it’s beautiful outside.”  
River stared for a long few moments. Then, so quickly she could have imagined it, River nodded.  
“We’ll be back in 15,” Kaylee called to Zoe, who had just come out of the bathroom. Zoe looked appraisingly at River before nodding.   
“Don’t leave me here too long. I already had to deal with the Elvis impression this morning; I don’t know how much more of him I can take today.”  
“Come on Zoe. Wash isn’t bad! He’s quirky, sure, but it’s endearing.”  
Zoe shook her head. “I don’t know. He just…bothers me. I’ll tell Mal you’re on break,” she finished, waving River and Kaylee out the door.  
~ ~ ~  
The two girls wandered down the street: Kaylee, taking in the fall sights ravenously, and River, gazing at the sidewalk a meter in front of her feet as she walked. The streets were busy but not crowded, and they made kept up a good pace as they strolled through the small downtown.   
“Hey River, come look at this,” Kaylee said, pointing at the window of a thrift shop where an alarmingly fluffy pink cardigan was displayed on a hanger.   
River stared for a moment. “That poor muppet.”  
A surprised guffaw of laughter escaped Kaylee, and she turned towards the door. “Come on, we have to try it on.” River giggled and pretended to protest, but let herself be ushered inside the patchouli-smelling shop.  
Kaylee slid the sweater off the hanger and offered it to River. “You first or me?”  
River shook her head, so Kaylee slid the hideous garment on. “What do you think,” she asked, grabbing an enormous straw hat from a nearby hat stand and striking a pose. “Do I look like a model?”  
River doubled over laughing; as she did, her brain froze. Time seemed to slow down for her, like she was moving through and breathing syrup. Outside the window. A tall man, with a buzz cut. As she watches, he turns and smiles at her. “Hey there,” he leers as his image swims closer. “What’s your name?”  
River’s scream shatters the musty quiet of the shop. She falls to the floor, scrambling backwards on her hands and heels, trying to get away, trying to hide...  
Her shoulder is grabbed. She thrashes, scrambling the other way, crawling, crying, as she tries to escape…  
“River? River, it’s okay. I’m right here, you’re safe. River, talk to me!”   
Kaylee. Fear on her face. Pink sweater?  
River’s breathing became easier. She became aware of the racks of old clothes around her, the dusty-hippie smell of the air, an old woman offering to call 9-1-1.  
“No, she’ll be okay. I promise. We’re gonna get some fresh air.” Kaylee helped River stand up, keeping her arm around her as they slowly made their way to the street. As they exited the shop, Kaylee whispered, “That sweater was pretty awful, huh.” River didn’t—couldn’t—smile.   
When they arrived back at Firefly, Kaylee told Simon what had happened in the thrift shop. He thanked her for taking care of his sister, then he packed up his things and escorted her home (but not before exacting a promise from Wash that he would keep meticulous baked-good tallies in Simon’s stead).  
~ ~ ~  
Inara and Jayne arrived almost simultaneously, and an onlooker would be hard pressed to find a more mismatched pair in the whole of the ‘verse. Inara was not tall in physical height, but she carried herself like a queen. Her delicate features were perfectly complemented by her wide, enigmatic smile, set on a backdrop of smooth olive skin. Black hair, softly in waves, cascaded down her back and moved like the ocean as she made her way behind the counter to give Kaylee a tight hug.  
If Inara moved like a queen, Jayne moved like a mountain troll. He took up space—physically, he was about six feet tall, and built, as previously mentioned, like a mountain troll, but his bad attitude seemed to have another presence all its own. His mouth was set in a permanent scowl and his eyes in a permanent glare. He tromped through the shop to the maintenance closet, from which he proceeded to extract a mop.  
“You’re cuttin’ it close tonight, Jayne. Open mic night’s gonna start in 45.”   
Jayne threw a scowl at Kaylee. “I don’t tell you how to make fiddly little coffee drinks, do I? So you don’t get in the way of me and Vera,” he finished, waving the mop for emphasis.  
Inara sighed as Kaylee turned back to her. “This colder weather is playing hell with my ukulele. It sounds flat. Not tunable flat, just like it has no life.”  
Kaylee handed her something. “I know what’ll give you life. Taste this.”  
Inara critically inspected the pale white triangle Kaylee handed her. “Is this a scone?”  
“It’s not just a scone.”  
Inara looked skeptical as she took a bite. Her eyes widened and she let out a soft moan of pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s a really good scone.” She took another, much larger, bite. “Is this bacon?”  
Kaylee nodded. “If that doesn’t perk up your playing, I don’t know what will. The doctor made it.”  
“The doctor-turned-baker? Do tell. He sounds yummy,” Inara said, gesturing with the remaining scone. As she finished her snack and tuned her ukulele, Kaylee dished about Simon, leaving out River’s episodes. Talking about a cute guy was one thing, but talking about his sister’s issues was a definite violation of privacy.  
At 7:15, Mal emerged from his office. He ran the counter during open-mic night. Wash had left hours ago, as had Zoe. And as, he noticed, had Simon. Inara was behind the counter, fiddling with that ridiculous shrunken guitar of hers, and Jayne was getting the stage set up. Everything was running smoothly—not that he was surprised. He trusted his crew instinctively and completely, and they proved him right in that decision every day.  
Simon, though…he and his sister could cause some rough patches. Mal shook the thought out of his head and joined the girls behind the counter. “When are you gonna get the full-size version of that thing?”  
Inara glanced at him sideways. “For the hundredth time, Mal, it’s a ukulele.”  
“It is far too small to be a real instrument.” Inara rolled her eyes affectionately and went to do her sound check as Kaylee snagged a seat in the audience.  
The turnout for open-mic night was decent this week. After Inara welcomed everyone and played a few songs, the regulars stepped up to the mic. A middle-aged woman wearing a muumuu, Agnes, read another chapter from her soon-to-be-self-published time-traveling Viking romance novel (title: A Love Like Honey Mead). Ian, a tall lanky guy with an impressive slouch, performed a slam poem about life, sex, and death, brushing his hair out of his eyes every few lines. Courtney and Crystal, a pair of twenty-something teachers, performed the next installment in their color series.   
After another song from Inara, a couple of new faces stepped up. One was apparently an aspiring member of Mumford and Sons: wearing plaid, a bow tie, and hipster glasses, he shredded a few folk melodies on his banjo at 130 BPM. A petite, freckled redhead performed a dramatic monologue from some play about being an eagle. The, after one final song on Inara’s ukulele, the evening is at an end.  
As the crowd shuffled out of the shop, Mal joined Inara by the stage. “Tonight went well.”  
A smile spread across her face. “It did. I was pleased to see some new faces.”  
Mal shrugged. “These things bring out all the weirdos.”  
“Yes, but they’re tea-loving, money-spending weirdos.”  
He sighed. “I suppose.”  
~ ~ ~  
She was in an alley, seeing everything through a blur. She felt dizzy, nauseous. Nothing made sense.   
Blue aprons.  
The smell of garbage.  
Rough hands on her wrists.  
Laughter, echoing over and over in her head…  
River woke up with a gasp, drenched in sweat, the image of a unicorn with two horns all that remained of her nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated, since this is my first fic (hopefully that wasn't glaringly obvious as you read). Also, can anyone recommend some good teas I could talk about in the next few chapters? I'm a die-hard hot cocoa addict, so this is a little out of my area of expertise...


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